


Lunar Effect

by mela1223



Category: Midnight Poppy Land (Webcomic)
Genre: Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Romance, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-14 21:14:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29425119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mela1223/pseuds/mela1223
Summary: When a plan to take down Vincent goes sideways, it's on Tora to fix it. Will the young woman he falls for prove to be too much of a distraction? Or maybe Poppy is just what he needs...
Relationships: Tora/Poppy Wilkes
Comments: 35
Kudos: 45





	1. Superman or hot stuff?

**Author's Note:**

> A new fic??? What is this? I don't know!
> 
> As always, characters belong to the real MVP Lilydusk, brilliant creator of Midnight Poppy Land. Support her on Patreon! https://www.patreon.com/lilydusk

**Chapter 1**

“The fuck ya mean ya lost it?” Tora gripped the phone tight to his ear turning slightly away from Quincey—couldn’t look at the fucker’s face, his own stomach roiling as his other hand gripped the spoiler on the back of his car. His knuckles flashed white against the red paint as he forced himself to draw breath. The dim lights of the parking garage flickered once as another car rolled overhead on the level directly above where he and his brother stood by the trunk of his car. The other end of the line was silent and, as Tora drew a shaky breath, he could hear Quincey begin to hyperventilate.

“I mean,” Goliath’s voice dripped with anger, as though it were _Tora’s_ fuck-up that’d just hit them like a fuckin’ train, “I had it. And now I don’t fucking have it.” He enunciated each word, the syllables cracking out over the phone, loud enough for Quincey to hear, apparently, as he released a sound somewhere between a whimper and a groan.

Tora swallowed, licked his lips once, suddenly dry as panic threatened to overtake his lungs. “Goliath, cut the shit, quit playin’.”

“Not fucking playing, bro. We’re fucked.”

Tora squeezed his eyes shut against the dirty concrete wall in front of him, the greenish tinge, the stains too much like the ones that colored his nightmares. They’d spent so goddamn long planning this shit out—how’d they managed to fuck it up on the last step? And the threat of Vincent finding out, _holy fuck_ , they were dead. All of ‘em. And it wouldn’t be fuckin’ quick either. Not even Quincey’d be safe, shit. It was no secret the big boss didn’t fuck around when it came to traitors—not even blood was safe. _Shit, snap the fuck out of it, ya stupid motherfucker. Not the time to fuckin’ lose it_. Tora took another breath as he heard Goliath once more, “bro? You still there?”

“Shut the fuck up—I’m thinkin’,” he bit out, his voice echoing around the near-empty lot around them as he heard Quincey sniff his nose a couple times, gasping shallowly behind him. Tora dug into the pocket of his gray hoodie, grabbing the half-empty pack of smokes and placing one between his lips before he fished out the lighter from his jeans, huffing at the sight of it, remembering the look on the gas station attendant’s face as he’d asked for a different one, _any_ other one than the fuckin’ neon Bic printed with the words _HOT STUFF_. Tora lit up, taking a drag and holding the smoke in his lungs for a couple seconds, the nicotine like a balm to his system, his head clear once again. “Where was the last place ya had it?”

He heard Goliath sigh on the other end, “um, Quincey passed it to me at the station. Put it in my bag and when I got to Lane’s it wasn’t fucking there anymore. And no,” he bit out, “before you ask, no. There aren’t any fucking holes in my goddamn bag. I’m not a fucking idiot.”

“Nah, ya right,” Tora said, clenching his jaw as he exhaled smoke through his nose, wishing his shit-for-brains brother were here in the garage so he could put him through the fuckin’ wall. “Ya fuckin’ dead. We _all are_ if we can’t find that fuckin’ ledger.” At his words, Quincey inhaled sharply. “So, do me a motherfuckin’ favor,” he snarled into the phone, taking a step away from the car as he half-turned back toward his brother who, he could see from the corner of his eye, was crouched on the ground by the back tire, his face tinged green with terror and nausea. “And drop the fuckin’ attitude or I’ll kill ya my goddamn self.” Tora took another drag, exhaling through his mouth harshly as he flicked the ashes onto the ground, “need I fuckin’ remind ya,” he went on, “the rest of us did our fuckin’ jobs. This is on ya head. Fuckin’ fix it.” Tora took the phone away from his face, stabbing the end call button with his thumb before locking the device.

He turned the rest of the way toward Quincey, who was panting, staring at the ground, his elbows on his knees, hands running through his blonde hair over and over as he pushed his head against his palms. _Shit_. Hadn’t seen the man like this in a while, and they didn’t have the time for it right now. There was too much on the line. Still, Tora knew the younger man needed positive encouragement to come back to himself. Tora dropped down into a crouch, balancing his elbows on his knees, his arms hanging limply in front of him, the cigarette dangling between the fingers on his right hand. “Quince,” he spoke softly, angling his head to peer around the man’s hands. “Quince, I’m gonna fix this,” he said slowly, steady, repressing the urge to punch his car, to drive through the wall or off the fuckin’ bridge just outside the garage and into the Narin River that curved around the city. Sinking into the black depths sounded a lot fuckin’ better than what would happen if Vincent found out about their plan to turn him in. Their foiled fuckin’ plan, shit. “Quincey,” he said again, shifting the cigarette to his left hand and reaching out with his right to grip the man’s shoulder. He watched as his brother stopped rocking, stopped moving his hands, the muscles of his shoulder stilling under Tora’s palm, his fingers secure on his brother’s blazer. “I _need_ ya, Quince. We’re gonna fix this, but I need ya help,” Tora kept his voice low, hoped it was, what, soothing? Fuck.

After a moment, Quincey lifted his head from his palms, turning to look at Tora, his green eyes hollow. He took a shaky breath before he nodded. _Good, that was good_. “Quince, I need ya to listen to me, okay?” Quincey nodded again, his eyes glued to his brother’s face, as though Tora were the only thing not moving as the world spun around him. “Ya need to get to Vincent’s birthday party,” he said, the words moving like syrup from his lips, so fuckin’ slow, but he didn’t think Quincey could process anything too fast right now, the state he was in. Especially at the mention of his father, the leader of the clan. His eyes flickered in recognition at his father’s name, his throat moving against a swallow before his lips parted again around a shallow pant. The fear rolling off him, fuckin’ palpable. Like they were kids again—Tora’s own panic threatened to well up his throat at that idea, the memory too strong, too fuckin’ real with Quincey crumpled up in on himself, less than half his size. Shit. He closed his eyes against the image, taking a deep breath before drawing the cigarette to his lips, inhaling.

“I need to…”

Tora opened his eyes, meeting his brother’s stare, watching as the man blinked, slowly surfacing. He nodded, encouraging him, “yeah, ya need to go to Ares Street. Ya need to be _seen_. Me and Goliath were already there tonight at different points. Now it’s ya turn. Ya have to be seen.” It was part of the plan, the alibis. Needed to be able to deny having had any hand in the ledger’s disappearance, especially once it surfaced as evidence against the clan. “Vincent is expectin’ ya. It’ll be real fuckin’ obvious if ya never show.” He nodded as he spoke, a steady rhythm, watching as Quincey mirrored his movements, nodding along with him.

“I have to go.”

“Mhmm, ya have to go.”

Quincey nodded more firmly, blinking and frowning, his eyes returning to normal as he brought his hands together in front of him. “So then, we go now?”

Tora felt his brows pull together, had been so focused on getting Quincey to calm down that he hadn’t really thought about the how. Knew he wasn’t goin’ back to the party, though. “I’ll drop ya off, but I’m not goin’ in again,” he said, standing up and extending a hand down to his brother, helping to pull him to his feet as his other hand flicked the cigarette away. He dug his keys out of his pocket and walked around to the driver’s side as Quincey took his cue to climb into the passenger seat. He stuck his key in the ignition, revving the engine once before throwing the car into reverse, pulling out quickly before shifting the car into drive and peeling around the columns of the garage, headed back down toward the ground level. “If ya dad asks, I never left.”

Quincey nodded, turning to stare out the passenger window as the lights of the garage flicked past overhead, casting his face briefly in sharp relief before plunging them into shadow every few seconds. As soon as the black and yellow arm lifted over the exit, Tora took a sharp left out of the lot, tearing off down the boulevard that lined the river, the glass panels of the ritzy waterfront skyscrapers on his left reflecting the light of the full moon that hung ghostlike in the sky, reflecting in shards over the inky water.

“It’s a full moon tonight,” Quincey said, his voice sounding far away. “A time for romance. New beginnings, passion. Whirlwinds, you know?”

 _Tch_ , Tora clicked his teeth. Didn’t believe in any of that superstitious shit and Quincey fuckin’ knew it. _Whirlwinds, pfft._ Still, Tora wasn’t gonna stop him like he usually did—it was a good sign that his brother was even able to talk much less ramble on about fuckin’ romance. “Should start a new book, then, Quince,” he said, trying to keep his voice light, indulge the man. “Get ya in the mood to write ya porn.”

Quincey huffed in annoyance and Tora allowed the corner of lip to pull up. Another good sign. “If you just opened yourself up to—”

“Nah,” Tora snapped, taking another left, turning away from the river, leaving the moon in the sky behind them as they drew further into the heart of the city—the real heart, not downtown. Ares Street. Where all the corruption festered, all the shit the politicians didn’t want people seein’. As if the seedy district wasn’t the true measure of the city. “Love is for suckers, Quince. Do I look like a fuckin’ sucker to ya.” He glanced over at his brother who was regarding him with a frustrated look on his face. As he opened his mouth to answer, Tora shot him a glare, knowing full well he was gonna say some snarky fuckin’ shit. Didn’t have the fuckin’ patience for it—not now. Not when their lives were on the fuckin’ line, the car hurtling straight to the man who had the power to kill them all, one by one, all at once, however the fuck he wanted.

Tora pulled up alongside the plaza in front of Club Miracle, the neon lights pulsing on the buildings that lined the square. Earlier that night, it’d been packed with people waiting to get into the club, a DJ setup in one of the corners of the plaza as the younger crowd partied before the start of the actual celebration. The area had cleared for the most part, thank fuck. His car was pretty fuckin’ noticeable, and Tora had a reputation as the big boss’s muscle, his fuckin’ tiger—wasn’t exactly like he could sneak around Ares Street without being noticed by at least one person. Trash, empty bottles and cans littered the cement near the makeshift DJ table, long since abandoned in favor of the club where a handful of smokers milled around the entrance.

As Quincey made to get out of the car, Tora put a hand on his forearm, his fingers gripping his brother’s blazer tightly. “Where were ya,” he said and, when Quincey turned to look at him in confusion, he continued, “if anyone asks, where were ya. Cause ya sure as shit weren’t at headquarters,” he lowered his head, widening his eyes at the blonde man who finally caught on after a couple seconds of blinking across the darkness of the car.

“Um, writing,” he finally said, growing more confident as he went on, “I was home writing when I realized I’d lost track of time—”

“No,” Tora interrupted, “not lost track of time. It’s careless.” He paused, thinking for a minute. “Ya chose to be late.”

Quincey nodded slowly, “mmm, yes. Fashionably late.”

Tora frowned, “whatever ya got to say to sell it, Quince. Don’t care how the fuck ya dressed.”

Quincey squinted at him in the darkness before rolling his eyes and shaking his head, “never mind.” He put his hand on the door, pausing to turn back to his brother, “where are you headed, honey?”

Tora reached into his pocket, digging out his lighter and the pack of cigarettes as he answered him, “Black Swan, gotta see Ronzo ‘bout findin’ the fuckin’ ledger. See if he can access the train cameras or some shit, see where Goliath lost it.” He cupped his hand around the end of the cigarette between his lips, lighting up before shoving the pack and the lighter back in his pocket. “And don’t fuckin’ call me that,” he added, shooting the man a glare as he lifted his hips, fishing out his phone from his back pocket and opening up his messages with Ronzo. He shot off a text to let him know he was on his way, needed to talk.

Quincey nodded, “if it helps narrow it down, the train number for the green line he boarded was 4711. I passed it to him near the kiosks at the east end of the platform, Stadium Station.” Tora nodded—he’d known the plan, had been over it a million fuckin’ times, but it was reassuring nonetheless to hear from Quincey that he’d followed his part to a tee before meeting Tora at his car on the other side of the sports complex downtown. “Don’t text me anything sensitive.”

Tora turned his head slowly, glaring at his brother, “who the _fuck_ ya think ya talkin’ to, hmm.” The fuckin’ Tiger of Ares Street, goddamn. As if he was that fuckin’ stupid.

Quincey opened his mouth, closed it. Nodded, seemingly realizing what a dumbass he sounded like.

“Get the fuck out. No more fuck-ups.” Quincey sighed, nodding and coughing at the smoke that’d slowly filled the car before extracting himself from the passenger seat. Tora heard him pat the roof once before he took off across the plaza, peering in both directions as he drew closer to the club, the heart of the clan. Even from this far away, Tora could feel the pulse of the music thrumming up the tires of the car like a heartbeat, like the city itself was alive.

He took a drag of his cigarette, watching Quincey for another minute until the man had disappeared into the building before he tore away from the curb, pulling a hard U-turn and speeding off toward the Black Swan Bar & Bistro where he knew Ronzo was working that night—also according to the fuckin’ plan. Why was it so goddamn difficult for Goliath to not fuck everything up?

About five minutes later, Tora pulled up outside the upscale restaurant, quickly throwing the car into park when he felt one of the front tires roll up onto the curb. He checked his phone once, confirming that Ronzo had gotten his message and was good to talk.

@Tora: comin by the bar, need to talk

@Ronzo: okay, Big Bro. Is it urgent though? We’re pretty slammed rn

Tora rolled his eyes, didn’t really fuckin’ give a shit about whether or not Ronzo was dealin’ with customers. There was more important shit to worry about, he thought, stepping from the car and striding toward the front entrance. Important shit like not fuckin’ dyin’. Though Tora’d always known at the back of his mind that there was a pretty high chance that Vince would be the once to kill him, he’d thought he might at least make it to thirty. A few years away wasn’t too bad, he supposed, as he walked up to the bar, drawing some stares from the waiters who passed him, the customers at the tables to his left. He definitely wasn’t dressed for it, stood out like a fuckin’ sore thumb. Shit, so much for goin’ unnoticed. Tora quickly turned to the room to the right of the host stand, spotting Ronzo behind the bar as he shook a metal shaker before popping the top and straining it over a glass with ice, pushing it across the bar to a server who picked it up, placed it on a tray and quickly darted past Tora back the way he’d come into the main dining room where he could see other servers bustling between tables. Shit, they really were fuckin’ busy. At least the bar area was quiet. Tora rapped on the wood surface, drawing up close to Ronzo who whirled around with an overly cheery smile on his face that immediately fell, settling into his normal expression—maybe a little more tired than usual.

“Oh, it’s you,” he said as Tora frowned. “Not a bad thing, Big Bro,” he backpedaled quickly, “just…it’s nice not to have to pretend to be so happy all the time, you know?” When Tora didn’t respond, Ronzo huffed, “so what’s up? And,” he continued quickly as Tora’d opened his mouth to fill him in, “I’m the only one working this side of the restaurant tonight, so if customers come in, I have to help them. Can’t take a break yet,” he rushed out.

Tora rolled his eyes, “fuck’s sake, fine. Need ya to check some security footage,” he said, leaning closer and lowering his voice as Ronzo mirrored his body language, ducking his head. “Goliath lost the fuckin’ package, and we need to see if we can track down where it all went wrong,” he said as Ronzo’s eyes went wide, his mouth falling open around a shaky breath.

“Fuuuuuuuu…” he breathed.

“Fuck is right. Last place he had it was when Quince passed it to him, train number 4711,” Tora looked back toward the main dining room—no one had come by yet. “The sooner the fuckin’ better. Boss’s party is still in full swing, but ya know as well as I do that don’t mean shit.”

Ronzo nodded, swallowing. “Um, yeah. Yeah, I can check,” he gestured at Tora to follow him, walking down the length of the bar as Tora frowned, peering over his shoulder as the man held up an apron.

“The fuck—”

“I can’t take a break, like I said, we’re real busy, Big Bro,” he said carefully, holding the cloth out to Tora who hadn’t moved from where he leaned against the bar between two stools. “Big Bro, if you want me to check the footage now, you have to man the bar while I go in back. I’ll be quick, swear.” He waved at him again to come back behind the bar as Tora rolled his eyes. _For fuck’s sake. Tch, only fuckin’ Ronzo._ Tora took a deep breath, finally pushing off the bar at the thought of the time ticking down. They needed to find that fuckin’ ledger. He walked around to the other side, cocking an eyebrow at the apron.

“What do I—”

“Sorry, Big Bro,” Ronzo said quickly, wrapping his arms around Tora’s waist as he stiffened, holding his arms out above the smaller man.

“The _fuck_ , Ronz—”

A moment later, Ronzo had released him, the apron secured around Tora’s waist. “Like I said,” he held his hands up in a motion of surrender, “I’m sorry, but we don’t have time to go over how to wear an apron,” he said.

Tora huffed, kid had a point. “So, what the fuck do—”

“You pour. Whatever they want, doesn’t matter. If you get it wrong, who cares, right?” Ronzo shrugged as he slipped past Tora, headed toward the door off to the side of the bar that presumably led to the back. He put his hand on the metal plate on the door, pausing and looking back at Tora briefly, “more important shit, right?”

Tora inclined his head—kid was right about that, too, like he’d read his fuckin’ mind. Shit, at least he understood the gravity of the shit sandwich of a situation they were in. Tora glanced out the window in front of him that faced out toward the street in front of the building, could see the moon above some of the lower buildings across the street, _new beginnings, pfft._ He leaned forward against the bar back, cradling his head against his arms as he took a couple deep breaths. If he was lucky, he wouldn’t have to deal with anyone while Ronzo worked his fuckin’ techno-magic. Would be even luckier if the man was able to pinpoint where Goliath had lost the fuckin’ ledger, fuckin’ little blue-haired shit. Least it’d be easy enough to spot him on the fuckin’ security tapes. Tora listened as the front door to the restaurant opened, a woman’s voice from the other room, the sound of heels against the tile floor approaching where he stood bent at the waist behind the bar. _Shit, no, no, no. Go the fuck away_. He listened as the footsteps came to a stop, the sound of a stool sliding back across the floor, a small huff as she sat down. Tora didn’t move, willing whoever the fuck had sat down to get up and fuckin’ leave. He was in absolutely no mood to serve anyone. Fuck.

“Superman, huh?”

Tora frowned, she had a nice voice, mellow, sweet, but that didn’t fuckin’ matter, he thought, raising his head to look at the woman in front of him, ready to tell her to fuck off. As he met her eyes though, he felt his lips part, the breath leave his lungs as he momentarily forgot everything—who he was, where he was, what the fuck he was doin’ behind the goddamned bar. Everything was scrambled, everything was nothing except for her, the small woman who had sat down across from him, her smile warm as she held his gaze. “Your sweatshirt,” she said, raising a brow.

“My…” Tora felt his brows pull together up his forehead, blinking a couple times as her grin widened. She was smilin’ at him. When was the last time someone had smiled at him?

“I haven’t seen you here before,” she said, “are you new?”

Tora cleared his throat, shaking his head slightly as he came back to himself. “Nah, it’s a flyby,” he said, smirking as he watched the understanding dawn in her eyes, his joke landing.

 _Pfft, pfft,_ she giggled, raising a hand to her mouth. “Thought Superman had more important things to do…save the world?” She smiled, folding her arms along the bar as Tora took in her outfit—she was wearing a pale button-down shirt with a black collar, her long brown hair halfway pulled up off her face, the ends spilling over her shoulders. The fancy lights that hung above the bar top cast the stray hairs that had come undone around her face in a glowing halo. Fuckin’ beautiful.

“More important than…?” he let his voice trail off, leaning forward on his forearms as he smirked at her, his eyebrows raised in question.

“Than taking my order,” she laughed.

Tora bit his lip. Shit, he’d take her order any day, didn’t mind one bit. “Dunno, sweetheart,” he said, standing up, his heart thumping at the way she blushed lightly, her eyes widening as he drew to his full height, “can’t think of anythin’ that could be more important right now.”

She looked down, fidgeting with her hands against the bar before she glanced up at him. “So, a flyby, huh, Superman? she asked.

He huffed a laugh through his nose, placing his palms down on the bar and leaning forward, couldn’t stop himself from gravitating toward her, felt like he was fallin’ into her, like the room had tilted toward her or somethin’. “Helpin’ out a friend,” he said as she tilted her head.

“Mmm,” she nodded, thinking, before her lip drew up in a smirk. “So, they let just anyone back behind the bar? Or only giants?”

He grinned. Fuck, she was feisty. “Think ya mean superheroes, sweetheart,” he said, watching as she bent against the bar, laughing.

“Maybe.” She squinted her eyes at him, asking seriously, “you save any cats from any trees lately? Or maybe fly backwards around the world, turn back time and save the woman you love?” she bit her lip around a smile, unable to keep up the serious front. Shit, he had a feelin’ she was referencing somethin’—Ronzo’d probably know— _pfft, turn back time?_

“Think I could manage, sweetheart.” He held her gaze, felt like time had stopped around them, like it was standing still, but that was fuckin’ ridiculous, he realized—could still hear the faint sounds of glassware from the other room, the shouts of the kitchen staff through the wall behind him. He watched as she swallowed, her brown eyes so warm, wide like the fuckin’ moon.

“Hey boss,” Tora whipped his head around to look at Ronzo. Shit, he’d totally fuckin’ forgotten why he was here. The fuckin’ ledger. Ronzo nodded his head toward the back, quickly ducking behind the door again as it swung shut after him. Fuck. He turned back to look at the woman, noticing her smile had fallen as she eyed him.

“You Gyu’s boss?” she asked.

He huffed a laugh, shit, did she think he’d lied to her? “Different kind of boss, sweetheart.” He reached into his jacket pocket, pulling out the contents as he dug for his wallet, wanted to leave her his card, some way to contact him. Shit, he wanted to keep talkin’, would talk to this woman all night if he could. Definitely wanted to see her again. The lighter slipped out of his hand as he pulled one of the cards from his wallet, and Tora bit back a groan as she picked it up, the bright little piece of plastic. He watched as she turned it over once in her hands, a smirk crawling up her face, before holding it back out to him. _Fuck, real smooth, dumbass_.

“So, which is it, Superman or hot stuff?” she smiled, the lighter dangling from her fingers.

“ _Pfft,_ which do ya want, sweetheart,” he said, reaching his hand across the bar and circling her wrist with one palm as he deftly exchanged the lighter for his card with the other, slipping the cardstock between her fingers as he pulled away, trying to ignore the heat he’d felt shoot up his arm when he’d touched her skin.

She held his gaze for a moment longer, the smile having fallen from her lips again before she glanced down at the card. “Call me,” he murmured, his eyes on hers as he listened to his heart in his ears before he turned, slipping through the back door to find Ronzo.

“What’d ya find,” he said as he approached the younger man who was running a hand through his reddish hair, shaking his head at his computer.

“Big Bro,” he turned to look at Tora, “I’ve watched it over and over. It never left his bag.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m on IG now @melarela1223 where I post WIPs and other random shit about my MPL fics 🐅🐅🐅🐅
> 
> Have no fear, I'm still writing Chasing Poppies, but this idea came to me and I was like...I gotta write it. Now. So here we are. I have a feeling this one won't be nearly as long as CP but I've got the general arc mapped out. We'll see what happens *shrugs*
> 
> I think this one's just gonna be from Tora's POV, but again, I don't know lol 
> 
> Thank you for reading!! 😁😁


	2. Sleight of hand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tora and Ronzo try to figure out what the fuck went wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you are here for the angst, I gotchu 🤜🤛
> 
> We’ll get to fluff, we’ll get to smut. Buuuut if you’ve read CP you know I love a good slow burn. Heehee 
> 
> As always, characters belong to the real MVP Lilydusk, brilliant creator of Midnight Poppy Land. Support her on Patreon! https://www.patreon.com/lilydusk

**Chapter 2**

“What’d ya find,” Tora said as he approached the younger man who was running a hand through his reddish hair, shaking his head at his computer.

“Big Bro,” Ronzo turned to look at Tora, “I’ve watched it over and over. It never left his bag.”

Tora felt his nostrils flare, his brows furrowing as he choked on his own breath. He stared at Ronzo, unflinching as he searched the man’s face for any sign that what he was sayin’ wasn’t true. Couldn’t be fuckin’ true. “The fuck ya mean, Ronzo.” His voice left him low, barely above a whisper, and the other man seemed to shrink in his chair at the tone, like he’d seen the reaper himself. In the fuckin’ flesh.

Ronzo licked his lips once, glancing toward the door behind Tora before he turned to the computer, gesturing with his head for Tora to lean in. Tora felt his feet moving across the linoleum floor, the soles of his shoes sticking with each step, could hear the rubber catching over the din of the noises from the kitchen through the door beside the computer, men hustling in the back through the circular window. All of it registering as though on a delay, like Tora was swimming underwater, his senses dulled to the external world, and yet he could hear his fuckin’ heart pounding in his ears, the soft whistle of his nose with each shallow inhale, the sound of his teeth grinding as his body closed the distance between him and Ronzo where the kid sat at the computer.

Ronzo extended a finger to point at the small screen as Tora bent over his shoulder, eyes quickly finding Quincey’s perfectly coiffed hair as the man stepped off the train. He swallowed harshly as he watched his brother glance around—though the man had followed the instructions, Tora could tell from the jerky movements of his head up and down the platform that he was panicked as fuck. Not that anyone else would be able to tell—the anxious mannerism almost unapparent from the rest of his body’s posture. Back straight, head held fuckin’ high—mirroring his father, Tora realized like ice down his back—slow steps as he made his way out of frame after stepping from the train doors. But Tora’d known him too long not to recognize the moment of hesitation before he turned right, his toe catching slightly on the pavement, walking away from the camera and down the length of the train.

Ronzo hit a key and the image changed to a different angle—a camera above the end of the platform, his brother growing larger, less fuzzy with each step. Tora’s jaw tightened as he glared at the image of the blue-haired man who suddenly stepped into frame at the bottom of the screen, a bag slung over his shoulder. He leaned closer to the computer, his shoulder brushing Ronzo’s who flinched at the contact, his head snapping to the left to look at Tora’s face, having not realized how close his boss had gotten. “Eyes on the fuckin’ screen, Ronzo,” Tora muttered, not tearing his gaze away from the two men as they approached each other, Goliath sliding the bag from his right shoulder down around the front of his body. Ronzo reached over and hit the key again to flip back to the original angle so that they could see Quincey’s back as he slid the notebook into Goliath’s hand, the shorter man slipping the book into his open bag in one fluid motion before swinging it up and over his other shoulder. Fuckin’ flawless, had always been a natural at sleight of hand—so what the hell had gone wrong?

“Quincey leaves the station—I tracked his path around the stadium to the blind spot,” Ronzo said, referencing the place Tora had parked off camera as he’d waited for the blonde man to make the drop. “Don’t know if you want to see that…” he trailed off in question as they watched Goliath slip through the doors of the train as they closed, narrowly missing another man. Ronzo leaned in again, clicking on something and hitting a key that switched the view to the inside of the train car where Goliath leaned against a pole, two feet braced out in front of him as he pulled out his phone, using both thumbs to tap the screen—looked like he might be texting, but Tora couldn’t tell from the grainy fuckin’ footage.

“Nah,” he said, “keep it on this fucker.”

Ronzo nodded, “aye, aye, Big Bro. He’s on here for a few minutes, though. Mind if I speed it up?”

Tora gritted his teeth, watching Goliath smile down at his phone in the reflection of the train door window he leaned beside. Who the fuck was he in contact with? Sure as shit hadn’t been textin’ him or Quince—they’d been on their way to the party. Had pulled off hastily in the nearest garage when Goliath had called them. But he knew that wouldn’t be for a while on the tape—Quince probably hadn’t even yet made it back to the car where Tora had been waiting. “Yeah, be ready to stop it, though.”

Ronzo nodded and reached out to click something, the video speeding up, Goliath’s body swaying quickly against the pole—looked almost like he was vibrating. They watched him for a minute, Tora holding his breath each time the doors opened, expecting someone to get on or off, but nobody passed him—the man still lounging as though everything were going according to plan—and maybe he’d thought it was. Tora swallowed against the feeling like pit in his stomach.

A moment later, Ronzo clicked again and tapped another button, switching the feed to a camera on the platform facing the length of the train—could see Goliath quickly stride out the doors, one hand holding the strap of the bag against his shoulder as he slipped his phone into his back pocket, quickly glancing up and down the station before turning left, walking toward the camera briefly until he was at the exit—his body a silhouette, a shadow backlit against the lights of the police station shining behind him. Ronzo switched the camera again to a view from across the street from the station where Goliath quickly climbed the steps two at time, disappearing into the building. Tora licked his lips, could feel his heart pounding as he waited for his brother to reappear. He jumped slightly at a crash from the kitchen as a couple men shouted at each other but didn’t lift his eyes from the screen. Felt like thirty minutes had passed, though it was probably only a couple, as Tora’s eyes readjusted on the screen, finding Ronzo’s in the glass reflection as the kid stared intently at the steps. “And here he comes,” he murmured, nodding his head toward the computer as Tora focused his gaze again, eyes finding his brother’s blue hair instantly like a fuckin’ beacon. Watched Goliath withdraw his phone from his pocket, pulling it to his ear as he climbed down the steps, walking back toward the station.

“Timestamp,” Tora grunted as Ronzo switched the view again to the camera on the platform, a moment later, Goliath coming into frame where he stood gesticulating with one hand, the bag slung over his other shoulder. Ronzo sighed, leaning forward to squint at the bottom of the screen before finding what he was looking for, pointing. Tora peered down his finger—Goliath must’ve been talking to him on the phone at that point, lined up with the timing. Fuck, Tora thought, his jaw working tight as his eyes burned on his brother’s stupid fuckin’ hair. So, the fucker had lost the ledger from his bag off camera in the station or, what? He still had the fuckin’ thing in his bag? Or he’d slipped it to someone. Either of which would mean he’d fuckin’ lied. But why the fuck would he double-cross them? The plan was to take down Vincent—had spent years, goddamn motherfuckin’ _years_ , of their lives plannin’ this out in painstaking detail. One slip and—

“Obviously don’t know who he’s talking to, you know—no sound, but since I got a text from you not long after, I’m assuming he was calling you or Quincey—sure as hell didn’t call me,” Ronzo muttered.

Tora exhaled quickly, releasing the air he’d been holding in his chest as he watched the train pull into the station, Goliath removing the phone from his ear and tapping on it as he readjusted the bag on his shoulder, stepping up to the doors that opened a moment later. “Yeah, fucker called me.” Tora leaned his head to the side away from Ronzo, rolling his neck until he felt a couple pops, some smaller cracks that sounded like static shock down his spine. “Shit,” he hissed, shaking his head as he looked back at the screen, Goliath still on his fuckin’ phone. The man didn’t seem as agitated as Tora’d expected, certainly not as upset as he’d sounded on the phone. Was it fuckin’ possible his brother would lie—stab him in the fuckin’ back, knowing full well it probably meant death? Or worse. _Much worse_ , he thought, swallowing hard against the memory of the cage, of the cell in the basement of Balthuman headquarters. The pole in the middle of the room, the cut of metal against his wrists. Fuck. His thumb twisted the ring on his middle finger as he brought his other hand to rub absently along the black bands around his wrist just beneath the material of the jacket. Felt his chest loosen a little—enough to suck in some air sharply as he stood back up.

Didn’t need to watch anymore, he realized like a shard of ice to his spine. There was no way the fucker had dropped it. “Where’d he go from here.”

Ronzo swallowed audibly, slowly turning in his seat. “Ares Street.” Tora felt his chest seize, lips parting as he stared hard at the kid, eyes flicking around his face, _he couldn’t be fuckin’ serious, could he?_ “Lost him after he got off the train—you know there aren’t that many cameras in the area.” Ronzo sucked on his bottom lip for a moment as Tora tried to collect himself, tried to fuckin’ focus. Needed to think, they needed a fuckin’ contingency for the one scenario he hadn’t fuckin’ prepared for. “Hey, Big Bro. My sister said—”

_Holy shit_. Tora focused on Ronzo again, coming back to himself. “Fuck, I know what Lane fuckin’ said.” Didn’t need to be reminded of that particular hurdle just yet. Fuck—hadn’t even connected the dots that far ahead—there was already a target on his back.

Ronzo nodded, tightening his jaw. “How much time do you think she’ll give you?”

Tora sighed, turning from the other man and pinching the bridge of his nose as he leaned against the wall beside the door to the kitchen. Tried to focus on the shouts of the men from in back. Let himself wonder for a moment what it’d be like to be workin’ here—just a normal fuckin’ job, worried about not bein’ fully staffed up on a Friday, _pfft_. Couldn’t even imagine. Tora blinked open, glancing at Ronzo from the corner of his eye. He shook his head before pushing off the wall. “Gotta head back to the party.” He took a step toward the door that led back to the bar before pausing, shit, he’d forgotten all about her. If he saw her again…didn’t know if he’d have the strength to keep walkin’. “Ya got a back door outta here?”

He watched as Ronzo’s eyes widened, “yeah, but the kitchen staff smoke back there, and getting back around the building will put you around the outdoor bar next door, definitely more likely to be seen.”

_Shit_ , fuckin’ figured. Tora nodded, pulling the dark hood up over his head and gritting his teeth as he turned back to head toward the bar, steeling himself to walk past her. He’d just keep walkin’. She had his card now—could call him. _Shit_ , he thought as he shouldered his way through the door, Ronzo a couple paces behind him, _what were ya thinkin’ givin’ her ya card? Ya weren’t fuckin’ thinkin’, that’s what, ya stupid fuck._ His life was one big fuckin’ minefield—no way could he bring her into it. Especially fuckin’ now. Didn’t know what Goliath had planned but it sure as shit couldn’t be any good.

As Tora pushed his way through the door, his gaze settled on her empty stool that was pushed back from the bar top, a note scrawled on a piece of paper in front of where she’d been sitting. Tora frowned, glancing up and down the room before picking it up gingerly with two fingers as Ronzo started talking, “I mean, it seems dangerous, Big Bro. What if…”

Tora turned the page over in his hand, checking the back for anything before flipping it over to the front again—it was small, just larger than the size of his hand, like it’d come from a tiny notepad or something, the top of the paper was ripped like it’d been hastily torn. He ran his thumb over the purple ink where a note had been scribbled in curly handwriting, the characters all connected by faint lines like she hadn’t bothered to lift the pen all the way away from the paper as she’d scrawled the words:

_brb—filet mignon, but easy on the potatoes. sticking with the diet for real this time ;) thanks, Gyu! – P_

The ink smudged a little at his touch, still wet. He glanced up around the bar—didn’t see her, though. The ripped edge of the paper had a name printed across the top, some kind of labeling that read:

_FROM THE DESK OF POPPYLAN WILKES  
_ _Assistant Editor/Manager, Giant Goldfish Publishing_

Tora tilted his head, running his tongue along his molars, _Poppylan._ Pretty. As his eyes fell to the bottom of the page, he felt his tongue pull away from the roof of his mouth, his jaw loosening on an inhale, lips still pressed together. She’d doodled something in the corner—a pair of eyes, dark, heavyset brows. Looked a little like—

“Big Bro?” Tora blinked, glancing up at Ronzo who was staring at him with his eyebrows raised, one hand extended. His eyes flicked down to the paper in Tora’s hand then back up to his face. 

Shit, he’d missed all of what the kid had said. Tora inclined his head once toward Ronzo as the man huffed. “I said, you might wanna lay low until I can talk to Lane. Pretty sure I could get her to hold off for a couple of days, but going back to a big clan shindig is just asking for trouble, Big Bro. What if she decides to move on you tonight?” Tora tightened his jaw—kid had a point, but no way was he leavin’ Quince there by himself with Goliath headed back to the area, potentially with damning evidence of their betrayal to the big boss in hand. Fuck. What if he’d been workin’ with Vince the whole damn time? Goliath didn’t seem smart enough to be able to pull off a stunt like that, but—fuckin’ clearly—he was a lot smarter than Tora’d given him credit for.

“Gotta take that chance, Ronzo,” Tora bit out, his hand tightening on the paper as he glanced back down at the drawing. Really did look like his eyes, but maybe he was just seein’ things he wanted to see. _Superman or hot stuff?_ “Quincey,” he said, looking back up, meeting the other man’s eyes as recognition dawned like a dark cloud over his face.

“You think Goliath would—”

“Dunno what the fuck to think, Ronzo. Can’t call—gotta go warn him.”

Ronzo nodded. “Yeah, yeah.” Tora clicked his jaw, fuck, he really needed a goddamn smoke. All this fuckin’ unexpected bullshit—

“I _also_ said,” Ronzo nodded at the paper in Tora’s hand, “that’s from one of the regulars—she’s reviewing the restaurant. Can I get it?” Tora glanced back down at the paper in his hands, hesitating a moment before he rotated it, carefully tearing off the bottom portion of the note as Ronzo began to say, “hey, Big Bro, I—” before he choked on the words at the look Tora shot at him.

“A regular,” he asked, handing the rest of the paper back to Ronzo before folding the drawing in half, slipping it into his jacket pocket.

“Yeah, her magazine’s reviewing us, has to taste the whole menu, so she’s been splitting it up a meal at a time. We got a lot of options,” he shrugged, smiling down at the paper.

“What, she ya girl?” Tora asked, his throat cinching tight at the thought. It’d be for the best, though.

Ronzo huffed a laugh, bitter. “No, don’t think I’m her type. She’s cute though, right? Saw you talking to her.” Tora stared at him, keeping his face expressionless, lips slightly downturned, until Ronzo shifted on his feet uncomfortably. “Shit, well, didn’t mean anything by it, Big Bro.” He scratched his goatee before glancing down to the end of the bar toward the entrance where the noise from the main dining room filtered over to them. People laughin’, havin’ a good fuckin’ time. Tora huffed. “You headed out now?”

He nodded, fishing in his jacket for the cigarettes. “Ya call me immediately if ya see that motherfucker. Keep ya head down. Anyone asks, yea heard I was at the fuckin’ party.”

Ronzo nodded quickly, “aye, aye, Big Bro.”

Tora turned on his heel, striding back toward the front entrance as he pulled a cigarette from the pack, shoving the cardboard back into his jacket pocket and placing the filter between his lips. Could already feel his body easing at the feel of the paper against his mouth. He paused just outside the door, moving his hand to his jeans, meaning to dig in his pocket for the lighter, but his fingers slipped over the rough fabric of the apron still tied around his goddamn waist. _For fuck’s sake_. Tora bit back a growl, quickly ripping the material from his hips, the tie at the back snapping from one end as he balled it up in his fist, shoving his free hand into his pocket and grabbing the stupid fuckin’ Bic. He felt his jaw slacken, though, at the memory of her smile, her fingers holding it out to him. _So, which is it?_

_Pfft._

Folding the apron up under his arm and cupping a palm around the end of the cigarette as he thought of her, Tora lit up, the flame glinting off Joe’s ring—an orange glow against the deep indigo sky that inked over the river walkway ahead of him, the moon heavy over the water. He took a drag, holding the smoke in his lungs for a moment before exhaling through his nose, striding over to his car where he’d hopped the curb with his front tire. As he pulled the door open, he tried to push her from his mind—couldn’t be fuckin’ distracted.

And fuck, he didn’t want to believe that Goliath had played them all—maybe Alice’d been right. The old lady’d always made it a fuckin’ point to tell him blood meant nothin’ when it came to family. What he didn’t understand, though, was why the fuck Goliath would turn. He knew firsthand what was at stake, what had fuckin’ _been_ at stake for years. How many others had been snatched from the streets? And what, he was gonna throw away their one chance at bringing it all down? Fuck that.

Tora shoved the key in the ignition, rolling down his window as he glanced in the rearview mirror, the cigarette nearly falling from his lips as he noticed her beneath a tree, the moon glowing bright above her—the light kissing her hair, her shirt almost silvery—hadn’t known she was wearing a skirt before, couldn’t help his eyes dragging down her body, her curves so soft, and she was so fuckin’ tiny. As she turned her back to the water, he realized it looked like she might’ve just gotten off work—her outfit matched the ones he saw people downtown wearin’ near the banks and shit. He frowned, remembering what Ronzo’d said—was she workin’ on a Friday night? She looked upset, a phone clutched to her ear, her brows pulled down. He considered for a moment climbing from the car, going back to talk to her some more. Tora glanced again at the moon, the image of his brother’s face coming back to him—so fuckin’ pale. Bloodless, the way he’d looked that one night when they were kids—his face split open, his teeth outlined in red, mouth open in a silent scream. No, Tora thought, throwing the car in drive, he needed to get to his brother. Needed to find Quince and get him the fuck out of Club Miracle before shit went down.

Tora peeled away from the curb, engine revving, his eyes focused ahead, not daring to turn his head toward her as he passed. The fear licking at his throat, latching in the soft flesh at the back of his tongue, threatening to crawl out from deep within. He swallowed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you thank you for reading and for your comments!! I’m so excited to keep going with this one 🤩🤩🤩
> 
> ✨Come say hi on IG @melarela1223 where I post WIPs, inspo, and other random shit about my MPL fics ✨
> 
> Chapter 3: Do miracles happen on Ares Street?


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